


Sweet Sweet Memory

by delibell



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Written by Request, reader has a power!, she can see memories!, the best mixture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-22 02:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delibell/pseuds/delibell
Summary: (Name) accidentally learns about Patch’s death.request: hh what about a reader who can read a person’s memories/make them relive them x diego where she accidentally stumbles upon his memories of patch and tries to comfort him (tumblr: delicrieux)





	Sweet Sweet Memory

You usually are innately aware of people and their intrusive, bizarre thoughts. You try not to pry, even if sometimes that is difficult: not because you lack skill to control your power, it is just that their memories are too loud to be drowned out. It is truly a rare instance to be sucked into one, even if that used to happen a lot when you were younger: accidentally reliving your best friend’s birthday disaster again, with her,  _through_  her, or feeling choked to tears when pushed into a scenario of deep grief and trauma. Over the years you have become careful, though. There is usually a sort of strange buzz in the air when a memory is powerful enough to overwhelm you, a sort of dark void which’s tendrils wrap around you and pull you in, inch you closer. You tend to steer clear of such sensations, knowing they will lead to nothing good.

This time, however, all signs were absent. You simply pushed the door open to Diego’s strange apartment, and your cheerful “ _Hello_!” was cut short when the world spun in delirious purple-blue colors.

The air was stale with dust, a sharp metallic stench whiffling through it like blades. You were short for breath, overcome with alarm as you moved down the corridor to an open door. A motel. Your mind rushed quicker than you could process, and when you stumbled through the door and into the small room, your heart stopped in your chest; fingertips went numb; mouth dried to sandpaper. A painful scream was trapped in your throat, though the only thing that managed to come out was a short breath of disbelieve. In the dim lighting, flickering and morbid, laid a familiar body soaked in blood. It was a woman. A woman you knew. And once upon a time, a woman that was more than a simple  _friend_.

“… _Patch_?”

You jerk back to reality and nearly hit the door; your vision goes in vertigo and you shut your eyes tightly, slumping by the stairwell, clutching the side of your head as if it would help soothe the pounding pain. A hiss and a groan echoes from downstairs. Fearfully, you crack your eye open, noting Diego clutching one of his favorite knifes in his hand as his other hides his eyes.

“…What the  _fuck_  was that, (Name)?” His voice comes out strained and harsh. Raw, even, as a tint of emotion slips by the cracks. Your legs tremble as you slowly come to stand, clutching the railing for support. You gulp. Incoherent thoughts buzz around like annoying flies. Diego radiates in deep red, the same memory that had captured you now trying to seize you again. Unconsciously you lean back.

“Definitely something.” You say awkwardly, your voice small and hollow. He rubs his eyes, finally looks at you. The whites of them are somber in red, “I,  _ugh_ …I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen. It just…happened.”

“You know…” His tone is more even now, “When you told me about your power I had no idea just how much it  _sucks_.”

You manage to squeeze out a lame smile, “Yes it is…It’s very vivid.” A pause of deafening silence. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“No.”

You make your way down the stairs; he gives you an annoyed look, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to talk about  _it_.” You say, taking a seat next to him, “I already saw all I needed. I know what happened. You can talk about  _now_. Because if I know you, and I know that I do, you haven’t said a  _fucking_   _word_  about this to anyone.”

He stands up, deliberately trying to distance himself from you as you let a sigh of frustration slip past your lips. He paces back and forth, his form rigid and tense and you know he is thinking of what he could say to make you leave. He is incredibly private. And incredibly sensitive, too. It hurts you seeing him like this, trying his best to pretend that Patch’s death does not affect him nearly as much as it actually does; seeing him put on this tough armor – Number 1 never fails, and so Number 2 cannot either. Finally, he stops his deliberation, turning to you, his mouth already opening to say something he will surely regret later, yet you do not wait for any verbal berating before you jump up and engulf him into a tight embrace.

“You stupid,  _stupid_  man.” You whisper, “ _Let me be here for you_.”

Warmth seeps into your bones, fills you to the brim with compassion. His cologne promptly evaporates any lingering traces of blood, and that painful memory is pushed back deeper, nearly hidden, now only a fragment. Slowly, as if still unsure, his arms wrap around you, light at first, but then his grip turns nearly bone crushing. His head nestles in the crook of your neck, breath ticklish and airy. His body quivers under your fingertips. You wish you could soak the sadness out of him, have some sort of useful power that would let him simply forget.

But then again, pain is needed to heal. And if you can’t help him in any special way, you’ll just be here. And understand.

“…Thank you, (Name).” He utters into your skin.

Then again, it was so quiet he might not have said anything at all.

He lifts his head gently, his nose brushing your cheek as his lips land a soft kiss on the side of your jaw. You note the slight shift in his demeanor, and excitement sparks in your chest, though it is missing the same passion and intensity you usually associate with Diego. His touch is careful, uncertain even, and when he leans out to capture your gaze you note sadness in his beautiful eyes, but more than that, a need to be loved.

Your hands feather across his body, slowly gliding up to the sides of his neck as a small smirk pulls on the corner of your lips, “Let me be in charge this time?” You ask. Something closely resembling a smile makes its way onto his face.

“Please.” He replies with a huff, near a laugh.

“We’ll have to get you out of this bondage outfit, then.”

“I thought you liked it on?”

On normal occasions you do, through now you just want to be close to him. Instead of replying, you kiss him and that is enough of an answer for him.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 thnx for reading!


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